It is neither a perm, nor a curl, not a fringe, not highlights, not a braid, not a backcomb, not hair straightening, not a bouffant, not a sassoon.
It is just shaving.
It is an old representative of a dying profession.
It is an illegal trade: an inside out, reverse, negative kind of business where it is not the costumer who pays but the supplier.
Because he is vulnerable.
It is a marketplace of all of our stories collected in piles.
Little nothings that have passed away, frugal objects and events of the past that constitute us. Everything is broken, everything is cracked here... and every single fracture and crack make it more and more obvious that the whole Universe has fractures and cracks on it...
He is not a rag-picker old-clothesman or a collector... he is more like... a valuator... he takes a look at each of the objects of the rubbish-heap... and he classificates chaos.